


Casual

by PurpleD54



Series: Casual [1]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-25
Updated: 2017-10-25
Packaged: 2019-01-22 23:26:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12493276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PurpleD54/pseuds/PurpleD54
Summary: What can happen at SHIELD behind the scenes especially if there are no current missions.Be careful what you wish for.





	Casual

 

"No, no, no, red light, sir. Stop," Barton gasped as he rolled over and left the bed. He leaned against the wall with his face buried in his arm. His whole body shook with unaccustomed emotion. This was not how he expected this to go.

*****

            Clint Barton bounced down the stairs. He was going down one flight so taking the stairs was faster than waiting for the elevator. His excitement/terror wouldn't let him wait for the elevator. He had a hot date in 2 days. THE DATE he wanted for the last 3 years.

            He didn't date. Most of the time he just met up with another agent for sex. It was just scratching an itch for both of them. He made sure they knew it was just casual. Casual was his middle name. Male, female, didn't matter. No awkward pre-planning, just a meet up with a friend that led to  benefits for both of them. His name was legendary around the water cooler. No emotional attachments. Just casual. And most of the time, no repeats. Once in a while a second tryst but never a third. And never on a mission. He always waited to get back home for Happy To Be Alive Sex with the next willing agent.

            And in the back of his mind he hid the feelings he had for his handler. The hot sexy suit, the competence, the badass known as Phil Coulson. The man he'd put on a pedestal 3 years ago when Phil had listened to him and let him choose his own sniper nest site for a mission. No other handler had done that. No other handler had given him any kind of respect, had ever listened to him or considered his input, they just gave orders to follow. Stupid orders to boot. Which is why his file was filled with complaints until he'd been assigned to Senior Agent Philip J. Coulson.

            Hearing Coulson's voice over comms during a mission gave him confidence. Confidence in his ability to function. Confidence in Coulson's ability to bring him back home. Confidence to flirt with Coulson even when he was told, "Maintain radio silence, Agent." But he flirted with everyone so he could see how Coulson would be confused. He asked Coulson out every day but Coulson never took him seriously. Usually just gave him _The Look_ , a blank   _Are you kidding me?_ stare. But he tilted his head in a cute appealing way. Clint never got tired of it. Then a year ago, Coulson had responded, "You're too busy."  Clint had been stunned that Coulson had even responded and then realized how things could look from Coulson's side.

Clint started trying to see how each of his actions looked from Coulson's point of view. He cut down dating, heh, if you could call it that. Cut it down to nothing. He could aspire to be a better person, even if it never got him anyplace. He was still flirty with everyone around him. That was just his nature. But now he was careful not to take things too far. He still asked Coulson out on a daily basis, just to crack that bland façade, just to get _The Look_. He didn't want to change too many things that might be noticeable and it became a silly habit.

            Then out of the blue, on an ordinary Wednesday, Phil Coulson said yes. He said YES! Well, he didn't actually say yes, he said, 'Why not?'  So they had a date for Friday. For the first time ever, Clint had 2 days to plan a date and he was terrified. He had never been on a 'date' date before and didn't know what to do. Where should they go? What should they eat? What should he wear? He stopped for a second on the stairs and rubbed his hand over his face and took a couple of deep breaths and then continued down. He was beyond terrified. Phil was a classy guy. Way out of his league. Not once, in his wildest imagination did Clint ever think that Coulson would say yes. He wanted to make a good impression but he didn't know how.  He reached the bottom of the stairs and headed for the range hoping for some inspiration while shooting.

            Two hours later he still hoped for inspiration. He pulled back on the bowstring ready to shoot again and just froze.

            "What if Coulson doesn't like the date? What if I take him to the wrong place?"  Hearing the questions out loud didn't help. Did he really know Coulson well enough to make all these choices? He didn't even know how Coulson liked his coffee. Some hot date material he was. He never cared about anyone enough to notice before. A one nighter didn't work that way. Casual was always a no-strings proposition. No wonder Coulson always told him no.  Maybe he needed to be more focused on other people, like Phil Coulson. Stop thinking about just himself. He sighed and slowly relaxed the bowstring. This wasn't getting him anywhere. An epiphany was good for the soul even if it rocked his world but didn't provide any inspiration for a hot date. Maybe some food.

            After cleaning his bow and his leathers, he put everything away and went to the locker room and hurried through a shower and then headed for the cafeteria. He was halfway through a plate of macaroni and cheese. He ate in slow motion, staring at each elbow macaroni as if it had the answers to all the world's problems. It probably did but he was too panicked to see it. Then came the deepest question. _What if Coulson decided he was too much of a pest and handed him off to another handler?_ Clint whimpered and the fork dropped from his suddenly nerveless fingers.

            "What did that macaroni do to you?" asked Phil Coulson. _Ninja!_ Clint suppressed a gasp but looked up and knew that Phil could see the anxiety in his face.

            "Oh, um I was just wondering what this would taste like if it were purple," replied Clint trying to be nonchalant.

            "Liar," Phil accused, the tiny almost smile a reward in itself, but then he sobered, "I have some news. I need you on a mission but it's on Friday night. I'm sorry but our date is off. When you are finished here, I want you to go to R&D, they will get you set up with an outfit. You're going undercover. It won't be long. I just need you to meet up with an informant and retrieve a file. You can't look like a SHIELD agent, and since you are usually on a rooftop somewhere, your face has been kept out of the limelight which makes you perfect for this mission. After R&D, come to my office and we'll go over the rest of the op."

            "Yes, sir," Clint replied. He wasn't sure how to feel but, of course, a mission would have priority over his social life. He pushed all his emotions back into a mental box then took his tray to the cleanup area without finishing his food, his appetite gone.

            R&D assigned him to Bob who measured every part of him and put him into a closet-like booth which turned out to be a scanner that whizzed and chirped.

            "Here, try this on behind the screen over there," Bob said, handing him a pair of really baggy torn jeans and a glittery purple cowboy shirt with used-to-be-white fringe. Clint cringed as he took the bundle.

            "Oh, party clothes," he said and Bob snorted. These might have been useful once, maybe in the 1950's in Montana but this was New York and a new century. Clint stepped behind the screen and changed into the outfit. They fit like they looked, the jeans baggy, too long, the shirt could have wrapped around him twice and the snaps were rusty. When he stepped out from behind the screen, he cleared his throat to get Bob's attention.

            "Hmm, yes, they need a little work. Good thing I have 2 days to finish. Okay, you're done here. I believe Agent Coulson wanted to see you after." Waving a careless hand, Bob went back to the computer screen he was looking at. Clint hurried to get out of the clothes, his heart falling into his boots. Was this what he was going to wear? Now he was worried about what kind of mission this would be.

            Knocking on Coulson's door, he waited until he heard a response before opening the door and shuffling inside. He dropped into the chair in front of Coulson's desk. The fact that he hadn't just barged in spoke louder to his mental state than anything else.

            "What's the matter? Don't you like your undercover outfit?" asked Coulson.

            "What have you got me into, sir?" replied Clint.

            "I know it's a bit unusual but Bob is really good with alterations. You like purple, right? It'll be fine, you'll see. Now, here is the rest of the mission. It has to look like a one night stand type of thing or some kind of blind date. You will meet the informant at The Copper Kettle at 20:00 hours, you will pay for dinner and then you will take him home to your place where he'll give you a flash drive with the file we need. Whatever you do after that is up to you."

            "Wait, who is this guy and how do I find him?"

            "He will find you. When you get to The Copper Kettle there will be a reservation in the name of Roberts. Your name will be Clive Roberts and that is who he will be looking for. You both have dinner and then back to your place. Get that drive. No problem, right?"

            "No problem, sir." _I still wish it was you. I'd even wear the outfit with no alterations if that was what you wanted._ Clint sighed, his stomach felt like lead. "I'd better go clean my place up a bit if I'm having company." Clint got up and left.

            Yup this was his life. He almost had Coulson. Well, maybe he could set up another date when there was no mission. It might give him a chance to do some research on the amazing Agent Philip J. Coulson. He wondered if Coulson had planned this because he was sorry he said yes to the date. Nah, he wasn't like that. He would have been up front if he changed his mind.

            At least the panic was gone by the time he reached his apartment. He could _pretend_. Yes, that was it. He could pretend he was doing this for Coulson. It would be good practice. He opened all the windows. He cleaned his apartment from top to bottom. He even made a list:  Vacuum, dust, clean the bathroom, clean the kitchen, swiffer the tile floors, empty the sentient food from the fridge, make sure there were no socks hidden among the pillows on the sofa, change the sheets on the bed, buy a tablecloth for the table.

            He could pick up some flowers or something on Friday morning just to have something on the table. Most of his apartment looked like a hotel room anyway. He didn't have much. He picked up the laundry basket and headed to the basement to start a wash load of sweats.

            He wondered who the stranger would be. Would SHIELD really allow him to take a stranger home for a mission? It must be someone Coulson knew. Coulson would never put him in harm's way. He would only be in Clint's place for a short time. He wondered what was on the flash drive. Better be worth all this.

            Clint also planned the weapons he would carry and wondered how they would look under the outfit. He laughed to himself. At least there was plenty of room. Hell, he could probably fit a tank under that baggy shirt. Or an RPG at the very least. With fringe.

*****

            By 14:00 on Friday, Clint was ready for the day to be over. He had already changed the sheets on his bed and picked up a bouquet of purple tulips for his white cloth-covered table. They looked really nice in a small brown ceramic milk pitcher that had been at the florist. What? He could pick out nice things, thank you very much. Everything else was done. He was getting antsy. He had to get back to R&D Bob for his outfit for the mission but not until 19:00. He headed over to headquarters anyway, he could use the range time. He could also go over some details with Coulson. He was still bummed out over their cancelled date but had hopes of another in the near future. Which reminded him. He hadn't asked Coulson for a rain check yet. At least it would be something to do.

            He knocked on Coulson's office door and twisted the doorknob but it was locked. That had never happened before. There were no lights on under the door. Jasper Sitwell happened to be walking past and Clint motioned to him.

            "Hey Jas, where is Coulson? I have a mission later. I thought he would be here."

            "Agent Coulson is on a plane heading to Argentina," Jasper replied. "He told me you were okay with a solo mission. I can debrief you when you are done if you want. If you run into any problems, you can call me. Coulson thought you would just be submitting a report and anything else would wait till he got back on Tuesday."

            "Okay, thanks, man." Clint said waving and heading off to the range. His whole body felt weighted down with dread. That was strange. He had never heard of Coulson doing something like that. He must be way low on the totem pole. His mission was superseded by another mission. He felt a bit lost but shook it off. He could handle this. Coulson trusted him on his own to get this done. He wouldn't let him down. Some range time would help settle him.

            Clint presented himself to R&D Bob right at 19:00. He had showered and shaved after his workout on the range and was feeling better. This was supposed to be a milk run and even though there was no backup and no Coulson on comms, he could handle this. Piece of cake. He'd never eaten at The Copper Kettle and wondered what kind of food they had. He worked at getting into the right mindset for the mission concentrating on the objectives and planning his own backup plans.

            "Okay, put these on," said Bob handing him a pile of clothes.

            "This doesn't look like the stuff I tried on last time," Clint said.

            "Of course not, how do you think I keep my reputation as a miracle worker?"  Bob laughed.

            "Sure, _Scotty_ , let's see how it fits."

            Clint went behind the screen, curious about the clothes. Taking off his sweats, he pulled on the fine black leather skin-tight pants. Then put his black boots back on. The shirt was a crisp button down in a rich dark green fabric and there was a vest in a pale silvery gray. The subtle hounds tooth check was a silver on silver pattern and shifted in the light. There were pockets inside for his trifold wallet and ID. The tailoring showed off Clint's broad shoulders and trim waist and when he turned around in front of the mirror, he could see how the leather hugged his butt. The green shirt made his eyes look huge. It was a perfect fit and Clint's mood lifted. He could do this. He was a professional. When he went back around the screen Bob's eyebrows rose.

            "Okay, turn. Yes, I am a hell of a miracle worker," Bob said smugly as Clint turned around. "I was worried about the pants but Coulson chose the outfit and you carry it off well." Clint's ears turned a bit pink at the praise but he didn't say anything.

            "Weapons," Bob said, "I was told you wouldn't need anything but I know you won't want to go out empty handed, as it were."

            Clint laughed, "Yeah, I was picturing an RPG under the baggy shirt."

            Bob snorted. "I can see that. Well, it's too warm for a jacket and the clothes are too tight for a lot of stuff but we have these." Bob presented him with an ankle holster with a small gun and a knife with a slim sheath that would go under his left shirt sleeve. The knife was beautifully worked with a rune-carved blade that was so thin, it was virtually invisible under his sleeve. Clint strapped everything on feeling better. He wouldn't need the trip back to his locker for the other weapons.

            "Okay, for the big finish, put these on." Bob opened a small box and handed him 2 rings. One looked like a silver class ring with a green stone that matched his shirt and went on his left pinky. The other ring was wider, a silver lattice shape that slid over his right ring finger. Clint noticed that the lattice design looked very similar to the lattice design on his bow. Bob unbuttoned another button on Clint's shirt and put a tasteful silver chain around Clint's neck that just peeked out of the shirt opening.

            "There, you look fantastic. You are ready for the mission."

            "Thanks Bob," Clint held up his hand for a high five. Bob slapped it and said, "If I weren't way too old and already married…You'd be mighty tempting, young man."

            Clint laughed, "I bet you say that to all the agents you dress."

            Bob smirked, "You never know. Now, off you go. Stay safe." Clint grinned and headed down the hallway.

            He took a taxi to The Copper Kettle, paid the driver and got out onto the sidewalk. He faced the building and paused. _I can do this. For Coulson_ , he thought. He saw his reflection in the front glass door. He looked great. He wondered if this is what a real date felt like. _Nope, don't go there. Okay, enough dawdling._ He straightened his shoulders and opened the front door. He stepped inside and asked the hostess about the reservation for Clive Roberts. The woman's eyes opened slightly as she gave him an appreciative look.

            "Oh, your other party is already here. Please come this way." The hostess led him into the dining room to a back corner, dimly lit, and rather private. Clint frowned as his eyes tried to adjust to the dimness. He noted the sight lines and exits from the room. He could see people at other tables turning their heads to look at him. He ignored them. He only wanted to know who was waiting for him. His heart jolted when he realized it was Phil Coulson seated at the table. Coulson stood up. He looked at him with a quick up and down, his eyes greedy before he hid it and flashed his small bland smile.

            "Glad you could make it, Mr. Roberts. I'm Owen Spencer."

            "Hello, Mr. Spencer," Clint offered his hand to shake, "It's a pleasure to meet you."

            "The pleasure is all mine." Coulson purred shaking his hand, holding it for a second longer than strictly polite. He pulled out a chair for Clint and pushed it in when he was seated.

            "I'm glad we could get together, Mr. Spencer," Clint said, "I heard you were in Argentina?"

            "It was a very short trip." Coulson admitted, then continued quietly as he sat down, "I kind of did something a bit underhanded." He paused and took a sip of the water already on the table, "I saw you on the security cams at the range. It looked like you were panicking over this date. You were wondering where to go and what to wear. I know you don't really date much so I arranged something instead."

            "Ninja." Clint accused. He was amazed that Coulson had done this for him. It made him fall even more in love with his competence. He didn't know what to say after that. He opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, feeling his face get red, but Coulson simply ignored it and changed the subject.

            "You look fabulous, Clint. Bob did a great job."

            "Yes, he is a miracle worker and I think I owe him my firstborn child." Clint laughed. " You look good too, sir. That gray suit is my new favorite. And your tie matches my shirt. How did that happen?" Clint watched as Coulson's face turned sheepish for a second then smoothed back into the bland accountant look.

            "Just an odd coincidence, I'm sure. Well, now that we are here, we should eat something, Yes?" Coulson asked. Clint agreed and picked up his menu. They chose a shrimp appetizer to share. Plus salad, steak and potatoes. The salads were fresh and chilled just right. The shrimp was perfect. Then the waiter brought a small plate of something purple and announced,

            "The chef was intrigued with your request, sir. He hopes you will enjoy this _amuse bouche_."           

            Clint laughed when he saw it, "How did you manage to do this, Mr. umm, Spencer?"

            "You said you wanted to know what purple macaroni and cheese tasted like." It was beautiful. The chef had added sausage, peppers and onions. There were 2 small pieces of toast shaped like birds standing up on the top. They each tasted it. There was a very faint fruity flavor after the cheese taste. Delicious. And it broke the ice. Though tentative, they started talking while eating, first about favorite movies, then favorite movie stars.

            By the time the waiter brought their steak platters they were talking about TV shows, (they both had an affinity for _Dog Cops,_ who knew?), and their favorite places to go. Phil made sure to have the waiter tell the chef that the purple macaroni and cheese was a big success and to express their warm thanks.

            Clint began to relax and realized this was a much better way for this date to go. He was learning so much about Phil. He knew he would have probably messed up everything if he had done this on his own. They were talking easily and having a good time. They each had dessert, Phil had the Crème Brulee and Clint chose the Lava Cake. They shared both enjoying the decadent flavors. When it was time to pay the bill, Clint found out that Phil had already paid for everything. Stunned he could only look at Phil like a gawping fish.

            "Don't worry, you can pick up the check the next time," Phil said.

            "What do you mean? Isn't this just a one night stand? That was the mission parameters, right?" Clint asked. _Aw, mouth, no…_ he thought.

            "Yes, of course." Phil agreed easily. Then his shoulders slumped slightly and a bit of happiness left his eyes, "We should go, they are about to close." Clint was amazed that it was so late. He had totally lost track of the time.

            "Well, come home with me and I'll give you a check for half of the meal. That way it'll be fair, right?" said Clint.

            "We can do that." Phil said stiffly in a flat voice.

            The taxi ride back to Clint's apartment was a bit awkward, some of the bubbly spirit of the evening seemed to have gone flat. As they pulled up to the door, Clint paid the driver. Once they were on the sidewalk, Clint remembered something.

            "Aren't I supposed to collect some kind of flash drive from you? Is that still part of the mission?"

            "Don't talk about that out here. Wait till we get upstairs." Phil said in a low voice. Clint gave him a quizzical look but led the way up the stairs. They could have taken the elevator to the second floor but Clint wanted to keep Phil as long as possible. He was messing this up and wanted to fix it somehow. He could feel Phil's eyes on him as he led the way up the stairs. Clint unlocked the door and pushed it open letting Phil go in first. Once over the threshold, he shut the door and locked it. He felt hands on his shoulders turning him around.

            Phil gave him an unreadable look and then leaned forward and kissed him gently on the lips. When they were both out of breath, Phil released him and took a step back. The tips of his ears were red but the rest of him was calm and cool. Clint was anything but. He grabbed Phil reversing their positions and pushed him against the door with a thump and kissed him roughly, all teeth and tongue. He pushed his body against Phil feeling all his blood heading south.

            "Coulson, are you ready for this?" Clint asked with a shaky voice, "I thought I was messing everything up."

            "Please" Phil whispered. Clint kissed him again, gentler this time, feeling like soda was fizzing through his veins. His tight pants were getting tighter by the moment.

            "Bedroom, now. Tour later?"

            "Yes," Phil agreed.

            The apartment wasn't that big, just a few steps to the bedroom. Once there, they went into the walk-in closet and each started unbuttoning. Even though this was the usual with any other one night stand for Clint, it felt cold and mechanical because they weren't touching each other. Clint stopped to hang up the clothes. Since they weren't his, he had to take care of them. Most of the closet shelves contained weapons rather than a lot of clothes.

            When they were both down to boxer briefs, Clint caught Phil's arm and dragged him to the edge of the bed and pushed him on to it then pounced. They both bounced and laughed and then moved closer. Clint's arm was around Phil's neck and his other hand rubbed Phil's arm from wrist to shoulder amazed at the muscles that were always hidden under the sexy suits. Phil rubbed his hands over Clint's chest with feather light touches that were heating him up like a volcano. If it was only once, Clint was going to give it his all.

            "C'mere" Clint mumbled pulling Phil back into a hug and kissing him with intent. He found he loved kissing Phil. Their chests pressing together made him feel all shivery. Their legs tangled together pulling each other closer. He closed his eyes and let all the fantasies loose and just let his hands feel the hard muscles in Phil's back working their way down. When his hands reached Coulson's briefs a small hitch in Phil's breath made Clint open his eyes.

            Coulson's eyes were so sad. _He doesn't want to be here. He doesn't want me._ Clint stiffened in shock and just that quick, Coulson's face changed again to his blank face where nothing fazed him or impressed him. Clint felt the change right down to his toes.

            "No, no, no, red light, sir. Stop," Barton gasped as he rolled over and left the bed. He leaned against the wall with his face buried in his arm. His whole body shook with unaccustomed emotion. This was not how he expected this to go.

            "Barton, talk to me," Coulson ordered following him out of the bed.

            "I can't do this sir." Clint whispered, "It's just not right." He kept his back to Coulson, his eyes closed, taking deep breaths and trying to push the emotions back into their box. One night stands didn't have any emotions. Warm hands rubbed his back, long soothing strokes that felt delicious but only made him feel more guilty.

            "Come on Clint," Phil whispered, "What just happened?"

            "I saw your eyes. You looked so sad, like you really don't want to be here, like you really don't want me. I would never force anyone, especially you. I love you. I would never hurt you." Clint seemed to be whispering to himself. Phil knew that Clint probably didn't even realize how much he was saying. The honesty pouring out of him with the confession made Phil's heart sing.

            "Hey, hey, hey, it's okay, shhhhh, it's okay." Phil soothed him rubbing his hands up and down his back. "Can you turn around? Please?" Clint slowly turned around opening his eyes. Phil's hands came up and curled around his devastated face. His thumbs stroked over Clint's cheekbones, still soothing.

            "Hey, it's okay. I promise. I wanted this for the last 3 years. I wanted to say yes every time you asked me on a date. But I never thought you were serious. Who would want a middle-aged balding guy who dresses like an accountant?  I didn't want it to be just one time and then never have you again. I'm not a casual person. So I always said no. Then last Wednesday, I was having a bad day," Phil paused breathing deeply, putting his forehead against Clint's, "A really bad day. I decided that having you once was better than nothing at all. So you were a present I gave to myself. I didn't know it would make you crazy. And yes, just now I was sad. But it's not what you think. I was thinking too much about what we could be together. How much I wanted you for more than just one time." Phil's voice choked up at the end and Clint's hands pulled him into a gentle hug.

            "I'm such an idiot, sir. You've seen my file. I don't know how to be anything but casual even when I want something more. I haven't been with anyone in a year so I'm even getting bad at casual. You were always my unicorn. Unattainable. Such a classy suit guy. So sexy and badass. I am always blown away by your competence. Why would you even notice an ignorant ex-carny? The only thing I can do is shoot stuff. I never once thought you would say yes. I had such a good time tonight and I've screwed it all up. I do want more. With you. But I don't know how. Will you help me?"

            Phil's breath hitched again, "I'm an idiot too. I let this drag on way too long. I let other baggage drag me down. I should have paid better attention, said something. Please don't put me up on a pedestal. I'm a guy just like you. And you're not ignorant. I don't give myself bad presents. Yes, we're going to do this. Together. And the first step is to get to know each other better. See if we can be friends first."

            Clint reluctantly agreed, "I think half my panic on the range was that I didn't know you well enough to know what you liked and didn't like. I'm selfish. I've only ever thought about myself. I had to, to protect myself before I came to SHIELD. I don't know how to change that. I've been asking you out for so long that it just became a habit and I was totally unprepared when you said yes. I don't even know how you like your coffee. It all suddenly mattered way too much."

            Phil nodded, "You still have to protect yourself, especially on missions. That can't change. That's not selfish. And you're going to hate this, but we have to slow down. We have to be a different kind of casual. Maybe hang out together and have pizza nights once or twice a week.  Sex is usually a third date kind of thing but we might need more time than that." Phil took a step back. Clint whimpered at the loss of contact. Phil stepped back into the hug.

            "Don't worry, going slow has all kinds of other benefits that you have never had. Get dressed. We're going to start over. But don't put those leather pants back on. I might tear them off you with my teeth."

            Clint laughed, "I'm guessing that's a third date trick, sir?"

            "Definitely an advanced maneuver," Phil agreed. "For now, we're going to get dressed, have something to drink, and watch a movie. And kiss. Lots of kissing. Then I'm going home. But first, get us something comfy to wear then let's go see what movies you have."      

*****

            When Clint Barton woke up alone in the morning, he wondered if the whole thing had been a dream. Then his eyes fell on the bedside table. There was a flash drive laying there that had not been there when Phil left last night. Under it was a purple post-it-note: I have a file on you. It's only fair you get a file on me. Owen Spencer.

            Clint laughed.

            "Damn Ninja."


End file.
